I’m not sure if I’m gonna keep up with the attempts at making goofy spoofs of Star Wars titles for these blogs, so for the time being, this may be the last.
Introducing The Life of Leigh: Part III: The Phantom Awakens.
No, I do not call my penis The Phantom, although, tbf, it is rarely seen, is a little ugly, and does reside in the catacombs that make up my boxer shorts. Also, much like me, with my height of roughly 5’7 (5’8 on my tippy-toes), it cannot also bring down a chandelier, Uhh wait, where was I?
Do you guys remember a status I put up a while ago about my girlfriend buying us tickets to see Andrew Lloyd Webber’s The Phantom of The Opera for my birthday? Well, that was yesterday and well holy fuck of all fucking fucks (I’ll give ten bucks to the first person who can name my favourite curse word.) it was amazing! Now I will not lie and say that up until yesterday, Les Miserables was my favourite musical/stage show of all time. After seeing Phantom in London’s West End, as it was meant to be seen (I saw Les Mis in the West End in 2015) I can honestly say, IMHO (The H stands for humble, on this occasion) that Phantom blew Les Mis out of the water! I laughed, I cried, a lot. I also may have got a little dizzy at the sheer height we were at in the theatre itself, but ultimately, I left that auditorium feeling like I had just seen the greatest thing ever put on stage. All thanks to a girlfriend who, through all of my attempts at some form of machismo, knew that at heart, I love the stage, every fucking thing about it, in fact.
There is something about the stage that needs to be respected by viewers. Whether you’re a musical performer, a stand up comedian or a stage performer in ballet, plays or opera. It’s not like a movie, where the director yells cut when you fuck up. You fuck up out there in front of hundreds or thousands, and that is on you. Never once did I see a fuck up from any one of those brave performers out there, whether that be the Phantom himself, Christine Daae, Raoul, or even a backing ensemble performer. It was crisp, it was clean, and fuck me, it was done so fucking well. That is why stage performers, from high school kids doing Grease or respected performers doing Les Mis or The Phantom of The Opera, will always get my highest respect.
If you’re a fan of the stage, I would recommend you see this musical, while you still can.
Obviously, being London, I was right at home anyway, having spent a little chunk of my life there, but, London is like no other city, to me, at least. It was a fleeting visit and my romanticism of England’s capital was soon put to rest as we were crammed into an Underground tube train that, at times, I and my girlfriend thought was gonna derail, but we soon found ourselves at Piccadilly Circus where after a few misadventures involving a Harry Potter shop and much general indecisiveness (On my part, btw) as to where we were gonna eat. We eventually went into The Hard Rock Cafe and well, I didn’t realise just how many items they have adorning their walls, all the way from John Lennon to fucking Rihanna. It was like a museum with beers and burgers thrown in. Their waiter, Frankie, deserves and award for his level of hospitality.
I have discussed the stage show, very minimally, but seriously, it was one of those experiences that I think I might be able to remember, and quote, on my deathbed. I shall enclose photos this time around and please, don’t laugh at this 42 year old man for now owning a teddy bear, because it is the best fucking teddy bear ever!
I hope this blog finds you all well xxx
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